The Italian's Doorstep Surprise

Nico ground his teeth. Why would she feel guilty? Rossini himself was clearly to blame for his own bad judgment. But Honora’s heart was so tender and kind that she blamed herself for everything.

“Make sure he gets his full salary for the month, and any vacation time owed,” he told Frank Bauer, who nodded.

Honora turned to Nico. “I feel bad—”

“Didn’t he say he was glad to go to Hollywood?” he said shortly. “He’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“Honora.” As the SUV drove away, he looked directly into her eyes. “Why do you always blame yourself? It wasn’t your fault. Let it go.”

She bit her lip, then sighed. “Fine.”

He pulled her inside the villa, and the tall oak door closed solidly behind them.

Inside, the two-hundred-year-old classical villa was elegant, stately in its age, and crowded with antiques, the antithesis of his sleek Hamptons beach mansion and stark Manhattan penthouse.

Honora looked with surprise at the foyer’s checkered marble floor and frescoed ceilings of cherubs soaring high above. “This is...yours?”

He shrugged. “I bought it with the furniture intact.”

Looking around, she gave an amused laugh. “This is the shack you’re slumming in until you can buy the villa you really want?”

“Until I can build it. I told you. When I get my father’s ancestral home, I will raze it to the ground and build something modern and new.”

“An ancestral home?” She frowned. “That sounds important. Why not remodel and restore it?”

He looked away. “It’s a symbol,” he said quietly, “of everything my father did. The place where he seduced my mother, who was a maid in his house. Then he threw her out and refused to take responsibility for her pregnancy. He represents everything that’s wrong and corrupt and cruel. I want to burn it all to the ground.”

“Oh, Nico,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. No wonder you want to tear it down.”

His eyes met hers. “I do. Then I will build a new villa. A new home. With you.”

She seemed to visibly melt at his words. Emotion made her green eyes glow. At first it warmed him—but then his heart started to pound. Danger! He could not let himself feel emotion.

But desire...

Taking her hand, he pressed it to his lips. “I expect the Villa Caracciola to be mine within the week.” He slowly kissed up her bare arm to her shoulder, feeling her shiver. “Until we can build our real home,” he whispered, cupping her cheek as he slowly lowered his mouth to hers, “we’ll just have to make do...”

Nico kissed her in the foyer until she sagged against him in surrender, both of them lost in pleasure. When he pulled away, he saw her beautiful face was dazed with desire. Taking her hand, he pulled her up the grand staircase.

He’d only visited this villa once, the previous November, when he’d bought it. He was relieved to find he still knew the way to the master suite. It was the only thing he’d refurbished, combining three bedrooms to make a single large modern one.

Huge windows and a balcony overlooked the picturesque sharp cliffs jutting into the turquoise sea. At the center of the room was an enormous bed. The white duvet was dotted with red rose petals. The marble fireplace had been filled with an enormous bouquet of pink and red long-stemmed roses. Nearby, an intimate table for two was covered with chocolate-dipped strawberries, sparkling pink lemonade, small canapés, fruit and tiny sandwiches.

Honora stopped, her sandals almost screeching to a halt on the hardwood floor, her eyes wide as her dark hair swayed over her red sundress. “What’s this?”

Nico felt glad in this moment, so glad, that he’d taken the time to ask his Italian housekeeper to set it up. All so simple, and yet his wife looked more touched than when he’d dragged her to Cartier and insisted on buying her a twenty-carat diamond. She looked, in fact, as if she were about to cry.

Maybe he couldn’t give her love. But romance, romance he could do.

“For you, my darling bride,” Nico whispered. Coming forward, he cupped her cheek as he slowly lowered his lips to hers. “Roses and chocolates and kisses. Kisses most of all. Everything I have, everything I am...is yours.”

* * *

Honora woke up smiling.

Late-afternoon sunshine was flooding through the west-facing windows of their bedroom. She must have fallen asleep naked, she realized, after their lunch and lovemaking. She stretched languorously, loving every sweet ache of her body.